


A World of Their Own

by WolfRune20855



Series: The Basics of Broom Magic [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Family Dynamics, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, M/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's october, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfRune20855/pseuds/WolfRune20855
Summary: Katie discovers a secret about her parents.
Relationships: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Series: The Basics of Broom Magic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179386
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	A World of Their Own

The Bell family owl, Captain, soared through the open kitchen window, dropping a letter on Katie's plate just as she was finishing up breakfast. Franklin glanced up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as Katie poured the owl a bowl of cereal, complete with milk. “That owl’s going to get fat if you keep feeding it like that,” he mused. 

Katie stroked the animal’s soft feathers. “Don’t listen to him, Cap. He just doesn’t want you to eat any of the delicious cereal.”

“It’s _my_ cereal,” Franklin grumbled. “We don’t buy it for the damned bird.”

Picking up the letter Captain had dropped in front of her, Katie noted Alicia’s neat handwriting on the outside. Tearing it open, she grinned as she read over the contents. “Alicia loved Leanne’s designs. She’s going to write her to get her to design some dress-robes for Yule Ball Hogwarts is hosting this winter.”

Franklin hummed. “That’s good.” 

_It was good,_ Katie mentally agreed. Alicia would help Leanne get the recognition she deserved. Designing their Yule Ball robes was just the first step. They’d look wonderful. Alicia and Angelina were beautiful women, and Leanne would design something that fit them perfectly. She’d made the right decision sending the designs to Alicia. 

She’d thought, for just a moment, about asking Marcus to help support Leanne, but had quickly dismissed it since Marcus didn’t care much about fashion. They’d met each other almost as soon after Katie and Marcus had met and were friendly. Leanne was her only friend who knew about her friendship with Marcus. Her brothers, her father, and Leanne. Those were the only people who knew.

She had a lot of reasons for not telling people about Marcus. Her mother would go mad if she discovered she’d befriended a Dark wizard. Alicia would try to convince her to break the friendship. Angelina would tell her all of the horrible things Marcus had done or said behind the cruel mask he insisted on wearing during their time at school (and she didn’t doubt there’d been a few). Katie had a lot of reasons for not telling people about Marcus, but her main one was that she was selfish. 

Katie and Marcus. They existed in their own little world. Her workshop. His flat. Soaring through the skies of the Falmouth Falcon’s stadium. When she was alone with Marcus, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. All of her worries––all of her fears––slipped away. It was just her and Marcus. And, more often than not, a broom. It didn’t matter that she was a halfblood and he was a pureblood. It didn’t matter that he was Dark. It didn’t matter that the noose of the SOW party tightened around Katie’s neck with every new wizengamont session, suffocating halfbloods like her and muggleborns like her father. With Marcus, she could breathe freely. Completely. Unapologetically. Unrestrained. 

She loved sitting in silence with him. She loved debating quidditch stats. She loved chatting with him over whatever Nilsy had cooked for dinner. She felt safe with Marcus. Katie was certain that if Helena Bell knew the truth, she’d do her best to put a stop to their friendship—all in the name of Katie’s best interests. They’d cease to be just _Katie and Marcus_.

It would be the end.

“Damn.” Turning the page in the paper, Franklin’s forehead creased as he frowned. He straightened his reading glasses. “Have you heard about this New Triwizard Tournament they’re having at Hogwarts? I understand wanting to watch a good sporting event, but I thought the Ministry had better sense than allow _children_ to compete.”

“Wizards view childhood differently than muggles, darling,” Helena explained, swooping into the kitchen in dazzling magenta robes. They weren’t her work robes, which caused Katie to arch a suspicious eyebrow. “Besides, if any parent has a problem with their child competing, I’m sure they’ll convince them not to.”

“Because it’s so easy to convince our children not to do something when they set their minds to it.” Franklin snorted. Glancing up at his wife, a small smile graced his lips. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” Helena smiled appreciatively. “Wish me luck.” 

“You won’t need it.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have it, all the same.” She leaned down to kiss Franklin briefly and affectionately. Katie held back her smile at the display. Twenty-nine years of marriage and they were still in love. Even though she didn’t really understand how her mother and father fit together––aside from their shared love of quidditch––she wanted a relationship like theirs. She wanted to fall in love. 

“Good luck,” Franklin said as Helena headed to the floo. “Give Cordelia my best.” 

Alicia’s letter slipped from Katie’s fingers. The fireplace roared to life and Helena stepped through. Franklin resumed reading the _Daily Prophet_ as if he hadn’t just obliterated Katie’s quiet morning––as if he hadn’t just casually mentioned Katie’s estranged grandmother over breakfast. “She’s meeting Cordelia?” Katie asked once her brain got over the shock of her father’s revelation.

“Yes.”

“Cordelia _Rosier_?” 

“I don’t know another one.” Franklin frowned at the article he was reading. The New Triwizard Tournament must have really been bothering him, but Katie had bigger things to worry about.

“She’s meeting Cordelia Rosier––the wife of the man who disowned her for marrying you––the grandmother who never came to any of our birthdays or even acknowledged that we existed because she was so blood prejudice––for _brunch_ ”

“Cordelia was never the prejudice one.” Franklin folded the paper and set it to the side. “She helped us elope.” 

_Cordelia Rosier helped Helena and Franklin elope_. How had Katie never known this? Why would her pureblood grandmother help her do such a thing? Why would she risk her family’s reputation like that? “Why?”

“Because we were in love, and Elias was trying to force Helena into an engagement that she wanted nothing to do with. Cordelia wanted what was best for her daughter, so she willingly went against her husband’s wishes.” Franklin’s eyes softened. “She destroyed her marriage for us.” 

“But she––you never said anything about her.”

“We didn’t want to ruin her reputation after everything she did for us,” Franklin said. “The only people who know are her, your mother, and me. Elias knew, but he’s been dead for half a year. Most likely, he took that secret to his grave. I don’t think even Evan knows.” 

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because you asked,” Franklin answered honestly. “And because you may eventually be forced into a very similar situation if this marriage law is passed. If you ever find yourself in our situation, know that we will do everything we can to help you––even if that means helping you elope with some rookie quidditch player I barely know.”

“I don’t think it’s going to come to that.” Katie didn’t know what it will come to, but she was hoping that it never comes to that. She didn’t want the law to be passed. She wanted to fall in love on her own time, slowly and naturally. She didn’t want to be forced into a union with a pureblood, even if it was with a friend like Oliver. 

“I sincerely hope not.”

* * *

Thoughts crowded Katie’s mind as she left the Leaky Cauldron, heading for Quality Quidditch Supplies. The shock of her father’s revelation had subsided, leaving her with questions. So many questions. What was Cordelia Rosier, nee Parkinson, like? Katie didn’t know if she’d ever seen her in person, just in the handful of black and white photographs that her mother kept hidden in the back of her closet. Katie had stumbled upon them by accident while searching for her mum’s old quidditch uniform. She would’ve never known what the woman looked like if it weren’t for those pictures.

Cordelia looked like a smaller, frailer version of Katie’s mother. Helena had inherited a decent amount of height from her father, bringing her to a graceful five foot nine inches, whereas Cordelia was shorter by three of four inches. She was smiling in those photographs. Her and Helena and Evan with his inky dark hair. Elias was never in those photographs, and Katie got the feeling that he wasn’t the one taking the picture either. He wasn’t there, but Cordelia was always smiling, her eyes shining with love for her children.

Katie wondered how her grandmother would feel about her. Would Cordelia Rosier smile if she passed by Katie on the street? Would she even know who she was? Katie doubted it. If she hadn’t glanced her way in sixteen years, why would she start now? 

Katie slowed down as she neared the Daily Prophet. A few feet away from the offices, tucked in a side alley, stood Oliver. He didn’t notice her. His attention was focused entirely on the thin ginger wizard in front of him. Katie didn’t recognize him, but he seemed familiar. A Weasley, perhaps? Enough of that family had traipsed through Quality Quidditch Supplies over the year that Katie knew what they looked like (though they rarely ever bought anything, to her mother’s constant annoyance). 

For a moment, she considered waving at Oliver, but she quickly dismissed it. The two men were in the middle of a heated argument, their expressions angry as they whispered. It intrigued Katie. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Oliver angry before. She’d only seen him twice, really, but she’d assumed he wasn’t the sort of man with a temper. She’d assumed he was like Leanne––passionate but never angry. 

It would seem she was wrong. 

The Weasley’s eyes flicked frantically about, landing on Katie’s slowly approaching form. She’d been spotted. “Can I help you?” he asked haughtily. 

Katie blushed. She hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop, simply curious why Oliver was lingering in the alley beside the Daily Prophet. “I wasn’t trying to interrupt, I swear. I just… well, I recognized Oliver and I was going to say ‘Hi,’ but then I thought ‘I probably shouldn’t.’ But, then, well, um, _Hi_.” Katie offered him her hand as she stopped before the pair. She was taller than both men, she idly noted. She was taller than most people (not Marcus, though). “I’m Katie Bell.”

The red-haired man’s eyes hardened. “Percy Weasley.” He shook Katie’s hand, dropping it quickly as if it would burn him if he held it for too long.

“Percy,” Oliver’s accent was unusually thick. Percy’s eye twitched. Oliver cleared his throat. “Percy and I were in Gryffindor together. The other guys in our year forced us to room next to each other because they couldn’t stand my constant talk of quidditch, and Percy-”

“Don’t,” Percy said lowly, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced down at his watch with poorly feigned surprise. “Would you look at the time? I best be on my way. It was nice to meet you, Katie. Oliver’s told me a lot about you.” 

“Percy-”

“I’m running late. I’ll see you sometime later, Mr. Wood.” Katie was surprised by the formal address as Percy retreated down the street. Oliver watched him go. 

“He seemed nice,” Katie said because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Oliver’s eyes remained on Percy’s slim shoulders until he was completely eaten by the crowd. “I should probably be on my way to.”

“I’ll walk you.” Tearing his eyes away from the place where Percy had been, Oliver smiled up at Katie. It was the first smile she’d seen from him that felt forced. 

“You don’t have to.”

“My mother would murder me if I didn’t.” Oliver offered Katie his arm, which she reluctantly accepted. As they started down the alley, Oliver quickly steered the conversation to a topic they were both familiar with: quidditch. “I heard about your brothers’ move to the Falcons. It’s got Puddlemere management in a tizzy. Everyone in the league would’ve wanted them on their team. How the Falcons got them is a mystery.” 

“Yeah.” If Katie had to guess, she’d say that management purposefully traded her brothers with the lowest ranked team they could muster up. It limited the competition, and with the Wasps gutting half their team, they needed all the help they could get. 

Oliver continued talking as they neared the storefront of her mother’s shop. “That team is…” He winced at the thought of the Falcons’s playing style. “Let’s just say, I’m not surprised they hired Flint.” 

Katie stopped. “What?”

“He was the Slytherin captain when I was at Hogwarts. Completely ruthless. When it came to winning games, there wasn’t a line he wouldn’t cross.” 

Katie ignored Oliver’s explanation. She already knew who Flint was, of course. She was surprised that he’d actually accepted the deal. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a week—not since the dinner that Nilsy invited her to. She’d had no idea he’d joined the team. “When did he join?” 

“Three or so days ago,” Oliver answered. “News got out _fast_. The team went out for drinks after practice yesterday. I don’t care what everyone else is saying, I’m keeping an eye on the Falcons this year. A team’s only as shitty as it’s players, and they’ve got three good ones now.” 

Katie stopped herself from smiling at Oliver’s observation. They did have three good ones now. She’d have to get herself some Falcons gear to support them. “I should get to work,” she said. 

“Right.” Oliver nodded. “It was nice walking with you.”

“You too.” 

Katie slipped away from Oliver and into the shop. Bells jingled as she entered. The shop was sparsely populated with only a few witches and wizards browsing the wares. Helena wasn’t in yet, still out with her mother. The thought was, again, so strange that Katie couldn’t begin to describe it. 

She spotted Caelum Lestrange standing by the broom counter, rifling through a catalogue. Wondering what he was doing there, she approached him. “Anything I can help you with?” 

Caelum jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning on her, he quickly organized himself in an air of haughty indifference. Katie found it highly amusing. “You’re late,” he sneered. 

“I wasn’t aware we had a meeting scheduled.” 

“We didn’t,” Caelum confirmed what Katie already knew. “I came to tell you that our deal is off.”

“Why?” Katie has been looking forward to crafting a broom with Caelum. Despite his annoying tendencies, he was smart, and he knew what he was talking about when it came to potions. The possibilities for collaboration were endless. 

“You know why.” Caelum pulled a worn piece of paper out of his pocket—a letter? “You are colluding with the competition.” 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about.” Katie’s irritation grew. She should have known that trying to work with someone like Lestrange wouldn’t be possible. To imagine that he’d put aside his prejudices to work with her was foolish. 

She snatched the piece of paper from Caelum, ignoring his gasp of protest. She glanced over the letter. The handwriting was completely unfamiliar. Flipping it over, her eyes drifted to the name on the bottom. _Harry Potter._ It was as unfamiliar as the handwriting on the page, yet it rang a bell in the back of her mind. Alicia’s letter had mentioned someone named Harry, another young potioneer who’s cousin had given Caelum a glowing recommendation. “I have never met this Harry Potter in my life,” she told Caelum.

“Like I believe that,” Caelum scoffed. “This is just like you-”

“You barely even know me, Lestrange, so watch what you say.” Katie crossed her arm, all six feet of her standing tall. “Or you’ll actually lose a business partner.”

“Answer me this: if you’ve never met her—in real life or over letter—how did she know about our plans to craft a broom?”

“I asked around about you,” Katie answered. “I wanted to make sure you were trustworthy, so I got a friend of mine at Hogwarts to investigate. She asked some cousin of yours—something with an _r-_ ”

“Rigel.”

“Sure. Sounds right. She asked him, and he said that his friend, Harry, knew you better. He probably wrote her or something. That’s how she heard about the broom.” Katie slapped the letter back into his hand. “Are we good?” 

Caelum tucked the letter back into his pockets. To Katie’s surprise, he actually looked sheepishly apologetic for a moment before the expression was wiped from his face, replaced by his usual sneer. “I had some ideas about the application of the potion on the handle. I was looking over your notes, and I’m going to have to adjust for longevity if we want it to be absorbed by the wood rather than a simple coating.” 

_Yeah_ , Katie thought. _We’re good._

“Follow me.” Ducking under the counter, Katie led the way into her workshop. Her shoulders relaxed as she stepped foot in the cool room. This was _her_ place. Her sanctuary—even if Caelum was invading it. Pulling up Marcus’s spare chair at her work table, she sat down beside Caelum and started to work.

* * *

This was an ambush. Katie was ambushing Marcus. This wasn’t fair, but Katie didn’t care. Marcus hadn’t told her about his decision to join the Falcons. He’d probably just forgotten, but Katie was excited for him. He was playing professional quidditch. _Professional quidditch_. This was worthy of celebration. 

She’d baked him a cake. 

It wasn’t a very pretty cake, but the batter had tasted good and the frosting had tasted even better. No one cared how pretty a cake was so long as it tasted good. 

Holding the cake in her hands, Katie knocked on the door using her boot. A second later, the door was opened by Nilsy, who didn’t look surprised in the slightest to see her. It was almost as if he’d been expecting it. 

“Miss Katie, there’s no need to keep using the front door. The floo works just fine,” he said with a smile. “I see you baked a cake.” Stepping aside, he allowed Katie entrance into the room, taking the cake from her so that Katie could pull off the outer-robe she’d worn. “And you’ve dressed festively. How wonderful.” 

She’d stolen a Falmouth Falcons’s jersey from the store and was wearing it over a pair of muggle jeans. She was a firm believer that quidditch jerseys always paired better with muggle clothing than wizard robes. 

“I shall take the cake to what’s left of the dining room.” Nilsy started towards the dining room. Katie glanced around the flat. Most of the furniture was gone. Several of the paintings that had been on the walls were missing. 

“What happened?” Katie asked. 

“There was a fight,” Nilsy answered plainly. “Do not worry. Master Marcus is physically unharmed. He’s in his bedroom if you wish to see him.” As Nilsy disappeared into the dining room, Katie climbed the stairs to Marcus’s bedroom. The door was open, so she entered. 

A part of her felt like she was intruding, but most of her was curious to see if the bedroom was as poorly decorated as the rest of the flat. Besides, she reasoned, Marcus wouldn’t hesitate to rifle through her own personal belongings. Why shouldn’t she do the same? 

There was a large king-size bed in the center of the room with a dark bedspread. The first piece of art that Katie actually liked in the house hung over the bed: a landscape of a cottage on the edge of a cliff. The waves splashed calmly against the rocks under the setting sun. A large window looked out over Diagon Alley, peeking into muggle London. A neat desk sat beside the window. On the wall beside it hung a cork board, covered with diagrams of quidditch plays and a handful of photographs. 

Most of them were of the Slytherin quidditch team. She smiled as she watched Marcus grow up through seven quidditch teams. There were a handful of photographs of a woman Katie assumes was Merriam, the false-name he'd assigned his mother. She smiled shyly at the camera—Katie was sure at Marcus’s insistence. She had a nice smile, Katie decided. A kind smile. There were a few pictures of people she recognized to be Farristair and Selwyn, Marcus’s friends from Hogwarts. And there was one of her. 

Katie was surprised by the photograph, even though she wasn’t sure why. It had been taken without her knowledge in the workshop of Quality Quidditch Supplies. In the photograph, she leaned over a broom, carving runes into the wood, completely concentrated on the project on her table. She wasn’t surprised that she’d missed Marcus taking the picture. She tended to have a one-track mind when it came to brooms. 

“Kates.” 

Katie whirled around at the sound of Marcus’s voice, and froze. Her brain stopped working. 

He stood in the entrance to what she could only assume was his restroom. Steam rolled out of the open door behind him. His hair was wet, but that wasn’t what distracted Katie. 

He was _naked._

A towel hung lowly across his hips, hiding his most delicate places from Katie’s view, but she could see _everything_ else. Water dropped from his head, tracing a path across his broad, toned chest, weaving its way in between his abs before vanishing below his pelvis, caught by the towel. Marcus just stood in the doorway, completely frozen—his eyes dark as he studied Katie.

That jolted her out of her inappropriate thoughts about her friend. This was not good. No. Nope. They couldn’t— 

_I’ll be downstairs_ , Katie meant to say to him. Instead, she squeaked, “Downstairs,” and fled the room. The door slammed shut behind her. 

Katie’s face flushed as she descended the stairs. She couldn’t believe that she’d just ogled Marcus. She wasn’t the type of girl who ogled people—most certainly not _Marcus_. Yes, he was handsome, but she was well past her old crush on him. They were best friends. A crush would ruin things. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Katie was stopped in the living room, searching for someplace to sit. Save for the embarrassing chaise lounge, every sit-able piece of furniture was missing. Katie collapsed on the ground and let her mortification engulf her. 

After what seemed like ages, the door upstairs opened and closed. Marcus’s bare feet padded into view. Katie glanced up at him. He was dressed in robes now, to her eternal relief. His hair was still damp, though. “I’m so sorry,” the words spilled out of her mouth. 

Marcus’s lips quirked up in an amused smirk. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before. Quidditch gets you over any shyness about nudity pretty quickly.”

Katie could imagine. How many of his teammates had ogled Marcus’s fine form when he stepped from the showers? Most of them, probably. Six foot five inches. Tall and broad. She didn’t get how Leanne didn’t see it. Then again, Leanne was attracted to delicacy. Nothing about Marcus’s appearance was delicate. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Katie said. “I've never played actual quidditch.”

“Do you want to know what your brothers look like after a shower?” Marcus arched a teasing eyebrow. 

“No.” Katie shook her head violently. “No. No. I did not just hear those words come out of your mouth.” Marcus’s comment efficiently broke the tension, though. Katie pushed aside her embarrassment. “Just—please start closing your door. I don’t want to see that again.” A blatant lie, but Marcus didn’t need to know that. 

“Will do.” Marcus offered Katie a hand, lifting her easily to her feet. Not many people could do that. 

“I notice you got rid of most of your horrible furniture.”

“Most of it?”

“You’ve still got the chaise,” Katie answered. 

Marcus shrugged. “It’s sentimental.” Katie wondered what he meant by that. He’d claimed that he’d never done anything on it, but he could’ve been lying. She could imagine—

No. Nope. She wouldn’t be imagining anything. 

“I bet,” Katie said with her own smirk. The reason for her visiting flashed across her mind. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d joined the Falcons?”

“Uh…” Marcus rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Because it only happened three days ago?”

“And you couldn’t have written a note?” 

Marcus shrugged. “You found out anyway. The jersey looks good on you, by the way.”

Katie brushed off his comment, still irritated that he hadn’t told her. “I had to find out from Oliver. _Oliver_. We barely even know each other and I know more about his quidditch career than yours.”

“I didn’t tell you because that would make it real,” Marcus said heatedly. “It still feels like a dream. I keep expecting to wake up at any moment.”

“Oh.” Katie hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought that Marcus was afraid of anything, really. He was so confident about everything, unlike herself. “That’s stupid.” 

“What?”

“Broadmoor went out of his way to recruit you, Marcus,” Katie pointed out. “He wants you on his team. Badly. He’s not going to kick you off. And if he does, he’s an idiot.” Katie took a deep breath, calming herself. “Now, do you want to eat the cake I made or not?”

“You made a cake?” 

“It’s a celebration,” Katie said. “Those call for cakes.” Marcus grinned at her statement. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: says that Marcus won't appear in the next one-shot because they have lives apart from each other, etc, etc.
> 
> Also Me: Writes this.
> 
> When I say this is going to be a slow-burn, I mean it's going to be a super slow-burn. The Jackson Glacier will melt before these two admit their feelings to each other.
> 
> We love to see Franklin casually dropping bombs on Katie in the middle of completely ordinary conversations and then acting like nothing's happened. 10/10 best dad.


End file.
